


Winter

by marya



Series: Seasons [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marya/pseuds/marya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met on winter, fell in love in spring, started dating in summer and broke up in autumn. A collection of four one-shots that sum up Harry and Louis’ relationship as they spend a year together and change through the seasons.</p>
<p>This is the story of how they met thanks to an old band and a certain song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally posting this. I never thought this could be happening anytime soon, after all the sleepless nights. 
> 
> Not much to say, it's an AU and I hope you like it? :)  
> This is just the beginning of a series so stay tuned for more about Larry's relationship!

London looked very beautiful when it snowed. It was like if someone had thrown a package of flour over the city, but slightly less dirty. Louis had seen snow almost every winter in Doncaster, but the picture wasn’t as powerful as in the big city. When it snowed in his hometown, he usually complained because it was too cold, or too slippery to go out. But here, in London… he just loved every single detail about the white blanket that covered every inch of the ground.

He walked through the empty suburban streets to the small cafeteria he worked in. Morning shifts were his thing. He knew every single client that entered through the glass doors on their way to the office, or school. He knew by heart all their orders —café latté for Josh, cappuccino for Mandy, two cookies and a chocolate milkshake for Steve— and the exact time they came to visit him. Because, yes, he liked to think they went day by day just because he was nice, talkative and really sassy, and that made their mornings. In fact, most of them —if not all, left the place with a big smile on their faces.

He opened the property and cleaned the crumbs on the floor. It was always him, who had to make the cafeteria look presentable, because his co-workers were too lazy to bother. But Louis couldn’t lose that job. Sure it wasn’t what he had in mind as a child, but he needed the money to stay in London enough time to move to another place —one closer to the city center, preferably, and maybe then find a better job. Not like he cared. He loved it in there. It wasn’t too hard and he got to meet new people every day.

The bell rang announcing the first customer of the day. A curly-haired boy entered the cafeteria and shook his head, making the small drops he had adhered to his hair fly to the glass doors. Louis frowned; he would have to clean it before going home and glasses were the most boring thing ever. Plus, judging by the state of the street, it was snowing again, so it was pointless anyway.

“Good morning, Harry!” He saluted, turning to the coffee machine and switching it on. “Mocha latté and a big vanilla muffin, right?”

The other boy nodded, but Louis was already on it. He placed the muffin on a small and clean plate and then flashed a smile to his customer.

“Take away?”

“Nah. It’s too cold outside. I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!”

There were a lot of mugs on the cafeteria. He liked the big and vintage ones the best, because they reminded him of those scenes in Friends in where the entire cast was just chatting, relaxed, and making it look like if it was a normal thing, lay on a sofa and drink coffee. Like if they didn’t have issues in life or jobs to go to. And that’s why he chose a brown and orange mug for Harry, because he usually just passed by on his way to college —his mother, Anne, had told him one day, and today he had chosen to slow things down a little and have a moment by himself.

The boy was sitting in a corner, almost hidden from his view from the counter. The music of The Eagles was blasting through his earphones. He had his eyes closed and was leaning against the chair with a peaceful smile on his lips. Louis smiled too, and left the mug in front of Harry, trying to be invisible and not bothering him.

Nobody entered the cafeteria that morning. The snowfall got worse and the streets were covered with slippery ice, so Louis thought that maybe everybody was trying to stay away from the threaten of falling when walking down the street to the café. Harry hadn’t moved, either, and he was starting to worry about his classes. Maybe he should go and tell him, because Anne wouldn’t be happy if she knew that her son had been skipping college in Louis’ presence.

On the other hand, he was still there, his mocha latté untouched, keeping company to Louis in that cold and boring morning. It was selfish —very, but Louis thought that, just for once, Harry deserved a break, so he took his e-book and went to the boy’s table with a big smile.

“Harry?” Louis placed a hand on his right shoulder as he opened an eye and nodded in response. “Do you mind if I sit here? The counter is lonely and cold.”

He shook his head and Louis proceeded to take a seat in front of the curly-haired boy. He clicked on the book he had been reading and, just in a minute, got lost in that world of words he loved so much. He was going through an old play, _The Alchemist_ by Ben Johnson, which his best friend, Zayn, had recommended him. So far, he was enjoying it a lot. But then again, was there any play he hadn’t loved? He had always wanted to be an actor; a stage actor, and all he could imagine when reading those old books was him in front of an audience, reciting the lines to his favorite characters.

“What’s your name?” Louis lifted his head in surprise, looking for the origin of the voice. Maybe he had new customers and hadn’t noticed it because he was too deep into the story, but all he saw was Harry without an earplug, staring at him with half a smile. “You know all the names to everybody, but we never get to know yours,” he explained.

“Louis.” The boy nodded and laughed a little. Louis couldn’t understand what was that funny about his name.

“It suits you.” He raised an eyebrow, not knowing whether he should join him with the laughter or start to cry.

“You’re weird.” Harry shrugged and nodded at Louis’ e-book.

“What are you reading? You looked very into the story, I could tell.”

“Oh, it’s an old play, really. _The Alchemist_?” As a response, Harry’s smile widened.

“ _If he take you in hand, sir, with an argument, he'll bray you in a mortar_.” He recited, making Louis blush a little.

“I haven’t gotten to that part, yet.” He muttered. “How do you know so much about the story, anyway?”

“I’m majoring in Literature.”

“Well, that explains a lot of things. Someone studying other than a form of Art wouldn’t be able to appreciate the sound of The Eagles.”

“Do you like The Eagles?”

Harry raised an eyebrow and Louis nodded in response. They were his favorite band since he was a kid. His dad used to play the old vinyl’s every day when he got home from work. For an entire hour, since he arrived until the dinner was ready, the music from the 70s would fly over their heads, teaching Louis how he could love such an amazing thing like music. How a simple melody could lift up his mood so easily.

As soon as his dad left his family, Louis found that the joy that was inherent with The Eagles was now anger towards his father. And he also realized that feeling mad at someone was also an amazing thing.

“They’re playing here next week, you know?”

Louis sighed and turned his e-book off. Apparently, Harry was now in a very talkative mood and that didn’t give him room to read. He didn’t complain, though: the snow storm was worse than before and nobody dared to walk in the cafeteria. They were totally alone, and Louis was starting to wonder how long that was going to last. Maybe they’d have to spend the night there, too, which wasn’t too pleasant, as the place was very cold at night —he knew it because some days, he had to stay until late cleaning everything after a party or a busy night.

“I don’t have tickets.”

“Well, I do.” Harry shrugged. “A spare one, I mean.”

Louis wanted to ask Harry if he was offering that ticket to him for real, but was scared he would take off the offer at the same time, so he remained silent for a few moments until the younger boy widened his smile and raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“So?”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“That’s what I meant, yes.” Louis shook his head in disapproval.

“But you don’t know me. For all you know, I could be a reaper, or a pedophile, or just someone that wanted to hurt you.”

“You’re none of those things,” Harry raised an eyebrow, with a smirk. “I’m not that hot to be raped, nor young to consider yourself a pedophile, and I know you long enough to know the most you’d do to me is give me a bad muffin. And you’ve never done that.”

“Maybe the vanilla muffin was poisoned.” The younger boy rolled his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want to go alone,” he shrugged, “and I told you: I have a spare ticket. My friend can’t go and it’s an expensive ticket to throw away.”

“I’ll pay you the whole price.”

“Sure.”

But there was something in Harry’s smile that made Louis realize he wasn’t going to let him pay a single pence out of the ticket. He thought about bringing some food —because, apparently, the show was too late in the night and they might get hungry, but he didn’t know if Harry would like Chinese, or Japanese, or just fast food. In fact, he didn’t know a single thing about the curly-haired boy, except that he was majoring in Literature and liked mocha latté and vanilla muffins. And he always wore ripped jeans and worn out boots. And he smiled at everyone, even though he sometimes didn’t know the person at all; he would give you a smile, making his dimples show and obligating you to smile as well. And he had this funny accent, and spoke really slow, like if he was thinking everything while talking and not ahead. And he had a great taste in music, not only for The Eagles, but also for The 1975, or The Kooks, because Louis had heard those tunes coming out of his earphones too.

Nothing really important. Nothing to work with. But Louis found himself smiling and accepting the ticket, not thinking twice about Harry being a reaper, or a pedophile, or just someone who would hurt him, just because Harry Styles didn’t fit in any of those stereotypes. He was —or seemed to be a genuine person.

The snow storm slowed down by the end of the afternoon. They had spent a few more hours inside the cafeteria, eating all the muffins, and croissants and cupcakes —because it was a shame to throw them all, but they wouldn’t be useful the next day, so why not eating them while they were okay? They drank a few more cuppas and talked a bit about each other, because that was what both of them thought they were supposed to do.

Louis told Harry about his sisters, back in Doncaster. Told him he missed them a lot, just like his mother. He rambled about how much he loved football and about the first match he attended to. He also mentioned that time he had played Danny Zuko at school and how much fun he had. And Harry just listened to it all with a big smile on his face, occasionally taking sips from his cup of coffee and adding his own comments to the situations Louis was describing.

There was a moment in where Louis asked Harry about his university life. He could have attended to college too —majoring in Scenic Arts, of course, but money was not something he had in excess, so the boy had decided to work before studying. He still didn’t have enough to pay for his degree, but that didn’t let him down; he knew he was going to study any day. It’s just that those years were not the ones.

“It’s okay, I guess.” Harry shrugged.

“You guess?” Louis chuckled. “Uni years are supposed to be the best of your life.”

“Yeah, I’m not saying that. It’s just that… Something’s left. Something’s missing.”

“Something like what?”

As a response, Harry’s smile just widened and the boy left his mug on the table. Taking a look at his watch, he started to move from the couch he was sitting in. “I should get going before it starts snowing again. Any ideas on how I could tell my mother that I didn’t go to class?”

“You don’t have to. I’ll cover you.”

“Thank you.” Harry replied with a sincere smile, and took his bag, making his way to the glass door. “Thanks for this afternoon. I’ll pay you everything tomorrow?”

“Nah,” Louis moved his hand, saying it was okay, “it’s on me, no worries.”

The younger boy left him all alone in a couple of seconds, but Louis didn’t stay much longer after that. Caroline, the owner of the cafeteria, had texted him earlier to tell him to go home whenever he was ready to, preferably before the snow got much worse, so that’s what he did. The streets were whiter than usual, but finding it hard to walk through the snow, Louis started to miss Doncaster a little, not liking that much this harder version of London from the one he had witnessed that morning.

It kept snowing for three days, and it got even worse. Louis didn’t go to work until Saturday, and Caroline decided to change his shift for the afternoon one. He didn’t feel that comfortable going so late, mainly because he didn’t know all of the customers that went after work, but he didn’t complain. Not at all. It could be fun.

It was a hectic afternoon with loads of people dropping by to take away their coffees. By the end of the day, Louis couldn’t even feel his wrists and was thinking that he might be dying. He had lost track of the amount of smoothies he had served, and was starting to hate the smell of vanilla muffins, when the bell rang for the hundredth time, announcing a new customer.

“Good afternoon! How can I help you?” He recited, without even looking at the door. He was placing some croissants in the counter.

“I thought you remembered my order, Louis.” The boy smiled when he recognized the voice and nodded, taking a muffin from the line and handing it to Harry.

“And I thought you didn’t have class on Saturdays.”

“I don’t,” Harry shrugged, “but I wanted to say hi. I’ve seen you haven’t opened in three days and I was starting to miss my daily doses of mocha.”

“Well, fear no more. Here is your coffee,” Louis smiled with the beverage on his hand. The younger boy took a sip from it to warm up. “Do you want to stay? I mean, it’s a pretty busy day, but I can manage to sneak out some time.”

“Oh, I have to go. Mum’s waiting for me to clean the house. It seems like she found out about my whereabouts the other day, after all.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen her, I swear.”

“Don’t be. I’ll see you on Monday, if you still wanna see that band. What was their name again? Something like The Ravens, or something.”

“Go away,” Louis grinned at him, while Harry chuckled and raised his coffee, leaving the cafeteria.

“Meet you at seven, door C. Don’t be late or I’ll leave you behind. Oh, and wear something black.”

Louis didn’t have time to worry about the concert that afternoon, because he, literally, didn’t have a single break until they closed at night.

Sundays were his least favorite day of the week, because he didn’t work. It may sound weird, disliking the only free day he had on the week, but Louis needed to be doing something in order to not die of boredom. His little flat in London didn’t have many things to keep him entertained, and going out wasn’t an option due to the bad weather. He had already read all of the books that Zayn had lent him and he knew his friend would be busy with his boyfriend, to disturb him.

Lying on the couch, Louis turned on the TV to find an old soap opera he had already seen. And, so, eventually he fell asleep.

*

Caroline let him go out earlier than usual. On Mondays, Louis would end up his shift at half past five, because he took the afternoon one, but that day he left the cafeteria at four o’clock, with plenty of time to change and prepare for the concert. It’s not like it was a big deal —just his favorite band, the first time he was going to see them live, but everybody was making it sound like a date. Which, of course, wasn’t. They were just two random people who happened to like the same band, hence were going together to a show. That’s it.

Louis didn’t have something black _per se,_ but Zayn had lent him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and he looked like a garbage bag with them. He sighed, taking them off and putting on his own clothes instead. They fitted him perfectly and, even though they didn’t go with the etiquette Harry had stated for the night, Louis could feel more comfortable in them. If Zayn was there, he would have told Louis to pick something different from an Avengers’ t-shirt and his old Vans, but the boy thought that, going to a concert, he didn’t have to appear too clean-cut.

The venue was on the opposite side of London and Louis, making a poor attempt of avoiding the public transport, drove all the way in his small and old car, finding himself in the biggest jam he had ever experienced. That was one of the very few things he disliked of living in a big city like London: he didn’t know what a traffic jam was until he moved there. Doncaster, being so small, was Louis’ favorite place to drive; he would sometimes get lost, heading to nowhere, just for the sake of driving and having a little time for his own.

He had a time for his own that Monday, but it wasn’t as pleasant as back in his hometown.

The clock hit seven fifteen when Louis arrived at door C, running and out of breath. There were a lot of people standing in a messy line and some of them glared at him; a simple warning in case he was thinking about crawling. But he had other concerns, like finding Harry in the sea of people that was humming those songs he knew so well. The excitement in the air was palpable and that made Louis feel even more nervous.

He wandered around the queue until the doors were opened. The crowd ran towards the gates, sweptwing him along with them and making Louis feel a little anxious. It’s not that he didn’t like large crowds —but, anyway, who does? It’s just that he felt lost, looking for Harry, and was starting to think that the whole concert thing was going to end up very badly.

A hand gripped his right wrist, making him spin around. Louis was totally blinded by the amount of persons crowding together on the doors, but he couldn’t make anything else but run between the people, being dragged by the stranger. A few people insulted them and others called the guards, telling them that Louis and his anonymous companion were trying to crawl. He apologized every time he accidentally pushed someone on his way to the doors, until he found himself inside the venue, not really knowing how and why.

Once he was standing, and not running, between the river of people that headed to the standing area, Louis could see that his strange friend wasn’t that stranger. Harry was sweating while still grabbing his wrist in search for a good spot to see the concert.

“Are you claustrophobic?” That was the first time he spoke to Louis since they had entered, stopping by what Louis could recognize as fourth row or so. He was smiling, making his dimples appear.

“No, I’m not-”

“Oops, sorry,” Harry cut him, letting his hand go off Louis’ wrist. “I was afraid I could lose you. Hope you’re okay. You just seemed so overwhelmed, and the people were already entering… I just thought you would like to properly see the concert.” He shrugged, making Louis smile and nod.

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for inviting… I didn’t have the chance to buy you dinner to make it up for the ticket.”

“There’s no need. But, if you want, we can go after the gig? That is, if you’re not tired.” Louis chuckled and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“I may be older than you, but I certainly know how to have fun and stay up all night.”

“When was the last time you went to a concert?”

The curly-haired boy had started to speak louder due to the amount of people talking at once. The venue was almost full —the tickets had sold out in a matter of minutes, and there was too much noise to keep a normal conversation going. Louis tried to remember, but there wasn’t a single memory about him attending to a show like that before. In fact, he had just gone to a couple of concerts back in Doncaster, and all of them involved his friend Stan as the main guitarist, but he wasn’t quite sure those counted.

He shook his head, making Harry’s smile widen.

“Just be careful, okay?”

Louis was going to ask what he did mean, but the lights faded to black and the atmosphere became strangely magical. He was having the same syndrome a person experiments when going to their first proper concert ever. He couldn’t stop looking at all the little lights that had appeared out of nowhere and were illuminating the sides of the venue. They were moving chaotically, but beautifully at the same time. It was hypnotizing; he was hypnotized. There were people who screamed, people who were already crying, and people, like him, who were shocked. Louis had always been a firm believer in the power of theater to gather people from different backgrounds together, but just then he had realized that music had the same effect —if not more— and that it composed the most stunning picture he had seen in his short life.

As soon as a couple of powerful lights turned on the stage, the crowd went crazy and started pushing Louis to the front. A pair of big and firm hands held him, preventing him from falling into the darkness that was the floor. Harry placed his hands in Louis’ chest, obliging him to lean into his body and building a cage around him, so people couldn’t hit him. It was nice and really comfortable, and Louis didn’t think twice about how weird the situation was. He just felt okay with it and closed his eyes to really feel the music that had started to sound.

He sang to every tune that the band played, screaming to the top of his lungs. He could feel Harry’s chest vibrating, under him, to every word the boy shouted, too. They sang to each other every other song, laughing, having a good time, enjoying it.

Louis learned that Harry preferred the upbeat rhythms to the ballads, just because he could dance more awkwardly to those, and he could scream louder, and he could just wave his fist in the air. During the slow ones, he would just stay quiet and murmur the lyrics. And just then, Louis could hear his beautiful singing voice, because he hummed them right into his ear, due to their body position. The first time, Louis thought he was doing it in purpose, so he could hear him properly, but when he turned to tell Harry that he was in fact a great singer, the boy had his eyes closed and was lost into the music.

“I really love this song,” Harry confessed, with a husky voice.

The first notes of _Victim of love_ started playing, and Louis smiled. It was his most favorite song in the world, but given the actual situation, he thought it would be too cheesy to tell Harry, so he just tried to stay quiet and cool about it, while the curly-haired boy moved his head to the rhythm of the music.

“Some people never come clean, I think you know what I mean.” The boy screamed, his eyes closed and a big smile on his face. “You’re walkin’ the wire, pain and desire, looking for love in between.”

The music kept playing and he let the guitar riffs take his body, finding himself singing too. Harry was by his side, trying to dance. He was sweating and his hair fell into his face with every movement the boy did, but under those red and violet lights, Louis thought he looked stunning and powerful.

“Tell me your secrets, I’ll tell you mine. This ain’t no time to be cool.” He shouted. Harry looked at him, finding his little concert really amusing. His eyes found each other’s through the dark, his smiles matched with joy.

“And tell all your girlfriends, you been ‘around the world’ friends. That talk is for losers and fools.” Louis laughed at Harry’s poor attempt to look like a rocker. Because, really, he just resembled an angry puppy.

“Victim of love, I see a broken heart,” Louis sang, hitting Harry’s shoulder and making the other boy chuckle. “I could be wrong, but I’m no.”

“Victim of love,” Harry replied, bringing his face closer to Louis’ and pulling his best ‘bad boy’ face out, “we’re not so far apart.” Louis shook his head, still smiling. They were, indeed, very close.

“Show me, what kind of love have you got?”

He was the last one screaming in the venue, but nobody except Harry could hear him, because the song was over. The two boys were still looking into each other’s eyes, panting because of the little concert they had just performed, and with the biggest smiles on their lips. And, even though the next song started and the crowd went wild once again, they didn’t move a single inch. There was something hypnotizing between them, and it was Harry who broke it, averting his eyes from Louis’ and looking kind of nervous. If Louis would have been able to see in the darkness, he could have seen the blush in Harry’s cheeks.

He didn’t think about it too much, though, because once he was out of the spell of Harry’s green eyes, he was paying attention to the next song like every other human in the room. His companion didn’t put his arms around Louis again, but instead, he was screaming like the fanboy he was. And that made Louis laugh until the very end of the gig.

When the lights faded off, and everybody was already leaving the venue, he realized it was over, and turned to Harry visibly upset about it.

“What? Where are the rest of the songs? Where’s _Hotel California_?”

“They sang that one the third,” Harry chuckled.

“But it’s too soon! They’ve just sang a couple of songs. Come on…” Louis pouted like a child who sees his favorite toy broken on the floor. Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him with his left eyebrow raised.

“It’s midnight. They’ve been playing for four hours. I think it’s only fair we give them a break, yeah? Come on, we have to get out of here.”

Four hours. Louis was still in shock when they reached his old car, parked in the adjoining street, just a few minutes later. He was having such a good time that he didn’t realize they had been there for so long. And he didn’t care, really. He could have been there for another four hours and he wouldn’t have felt tired a bit. But now they were outside, he was starting to feel his eyelids too heavy and was wondering how he would be able to drive home in this state.

“Are you sure you can make it home safe?” Harry asked, checking on his sleepy face, but Louis nodded, visibly annoyed by the question.

“Of course I can! Are you sure you don’t me to drive you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m staying at a friend’s. He lives close to the venue. You can come with me, if you want to, though?”

“I don’t think your friend would like to have a stranger at home, but thank you.” Louis smiled at him, making Harry roll his eyes with a snort.

“Please, Niall lives for strangers visiting his house, but okay. Fair enough. Am I gonna see you again?”

The question took Louis by surprise. At first, he thought that, of course, he was going to see him at the cafeteria the very next day, but then he realized what Harry meant and his smile widened without him noticing. He was happy; something was tickling his tummy, like butterflies but not so cheesy, just because he had had a really good time and apparently Harry too.

“Whenever you want. You know where to find me.”

“Be sure I will. Good night, Lou. Text me when you arrive home safely, yeah? I’ve already written my number on your phone.”

He didn’t know it just yet, but he had started to like the way Harry called him by his childhood nickname. That made him feel like home, safe and sound. The curly-haired boy was like being in Doncaster, but with all the perks of living in London.

When he started driving home, he turned on the radio when the first notes of a well-known song started to sound. He smiled and sang to the lyrics he had already recreated not even half an hour earlier.

“You got stories to tell, and you know how to play it so well…”

That night, multiple things had changed. Two boys, the way they saw each other and the world, and a relationship between them. But, most of all, the meaning of a song. Because ever since they sang it to each other at the concert, it became _their_ song, their anthem, that tune that had to sound every time they met either at the cafeteria or at their casual meetings outside Louis’ job.

It was their soundtrack, like in one of those weekend movies nobody watches.

_Victim of love_ finished just like it had done at the concert. Louis smiled. He certainly had become Harry’s victim.


End file.
